


Take Me Home

by foxysquid



Series: Erumike Week [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Amputation, Boyfriends, Canonical Character Death, Ghosts, M/M, Sad Dead Boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxysquid/pseuds/foxysquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he dies, Mike finds that he hasn't stopped existing.  But what happens next?  Where is he supposed to go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Home

The whole world had become pain, colored red. It was rough motion and sickening noises. Heavy breathing and the tearing of wet cloth. He must have raised his voice, because he heard screaming. It was indescribable, beyond anything he'd felt before, and he'd known breaks and wounds and falls and the years of torture that masqueraded as army training. 

His mind stopped processing the information it was receiving. Even the smells became nothing but a jumble of feedback, a confusion of blood and acid, meaning nothing to him. That was a mercy.

It lasted a very long time, but at the same time it was over very quickly. He wasn't sure how it could be both at once, but it was.

He'd thought you were supposed to see your life one more time before you died, and he was disappointed that that wasn't the case. He would have liked to go back to when he was a little boy, to see his mother again before he died. He would have liked to read a book with his father, or to run across the fields of his uncle's farm with the big, impossibly shaggy dog that used to be his pet.

If he could have gone to his first day of training again, he would have seen Erwin for the first time, still slender and sober, with a softness in his expression that time had since worn away. Erwin would have smiled at him, and he would have said--nothing, because he didn't talk much, and people tended to think he was unfriendly, because he was big and quiet and forbidding. But Erwin had smiled at him anyway, as if he'd known that they were going to be friends.

He didn't get to see any of those things. He'd been alive, and now he was dead. Just that simply and suddenly. He'd lived for years with the knowledge that any battle might be the one to kill him, but he hadn't expected to find himself in this situation so soon. They hadn't gone outside the walls. He should warn the others--

He would have, if he knew where he was. He was standing on an empty plain. The sky was gray but clear, the grass at his feet brownish-green and muted. There were no landmarks in any direction, only the gentle rise and fall of the earth. He felt very far away from everywhere else, very far from even the walls.

He shouldn't be anywhere. Erwin used to speak of what would happen after they died, especially when he was drunk, or upset. He'd say that he was going to Hell, that he was going to pay for the lives he'd taken. Mike didn't agree with that. He didn't believe in Hell, and even if he was wrong and there was one, Erwin wouldn't wind up there. Everything Erwin had done had been to help people. All the people who'd died because of him had chosen, as he had, to make their sacrifices for humanity. Didn't their choice mean something? To put it all on Erwin didn't make sense.

Wherever he was, he was sure it wasn't Hell. It was a place without a name. Honestly, he'd expected that everything would suddenly stop when he died: no more thoughts, no more dreams, no more memories, no more self. An absence where he'd been. Others would fight on in his honor. They would remember him, and that might make them stronger. His family would cry, and his friends would say his name and take a deep drink. That was the kind of immortality he'd expected. Not this, whatever it was.

"Anybody here?" he asked. He looked down at himself. He was whole again, no signs of blood or injury. There was no answer to his question save the soft sound of the wind rushing through the grasses. That's right, there was a wind here, so it couldn't be nowhere.

He felt the concern one would expect a Survey Corps soldier to feel, on foot in a strange terrain, but it was hard to feel truly worried here. If he was dead, shouldn't he be beyond Titans? They shouldn't be able to reach him here. No, he was concerned, but not afraid. It was difficult to feel anything too strong here. There was a sense of calm running through the place, dampening his agitation. He should be much more upset after dying, but he wasn't. He should be worried about his comrades and what was going to become of them, but what could he do to help them now? It was an eerie sense of ease, because it felt so unnatural, but he had no control over it.

He waited a while, to see if anything else was going to happen. It didn't. The wind blew gently, the sky was empty, and nothing stirred on the horizon in any direction. He breathed in deeply through his nose, but that didn't tell him much. The grass smelled like grass, and here and there he picked up the mild or savory scent of an herb, or the sweet freshness of a flower. 

He didn't experience any strong emotions, but as time passed, he was aware of a heaviness, and an ache. It was a feeling he'd felt before, and he'd recognized it. He was lonely. It wasn't that he wanted anyone to join him here, in death, but since it turned out there was something a person that carried on, he would hope he didn't have to carry on alone. 

Mike started walking.

He had the feeling that there was somewhere he should go. Maybe this was a stopping point on the way to Heaven or Hell or whatever destination was waiting for him. He walked for a long time. He didn't get tired. He wondered if he could get tired anymore. This plain seemed to go on forever. An eternity of gently undulating grassland, and a sky that was stuck at the early morning moment right before the sun came up. There had to be something else out here. Maybe he could find the other people who'd died, who'd gone on before him. His old friends. He'd like to see them again. So many faces he'd never thought he'd rest his eyes on again, that he hadn't been able to allow himself to miss, because it would have been too hard. You had to focus on what was right in front of you, what was right ahead. You couldn't look back. Not when you were alive--but he wasn't alive anymore. 

As soon as he'd had that thought, the horizon shifted. A light rose, orange and gold, like the sun was finally coming up. But it wasn't the sun. It was something shining. It was beautiful. Mike sensed that he should move toward it. That would be where his friends were. His family. He could see his mother again.

Instead of walking toward it, he stopped. He thought of everyone still living. The war. The people who were still fighting and struggling. The people who relied on him. How could he leave everyone behind?

After a long moment, he shook his head. "No. I have to go home."

He wasn't sure why he said that, _home_ , but suddenly, that was where he was, standing at one of the Corp's permanent encampments, in the middle of the yard. There was a flurry of activity. People were rushing across the yard, saddling their horses, gathering supplies, taking position. The Corps was obviously mobilizing. In the middle of it, as expected, there was Erwin, tall in the saddle, giving out orders. When Mike saw him, he felt relief wash over him. He walked toward him. "Erwin."

Erwin turned. He looked directly at him--and then away. He'd looked in his direction, but he hadn't registered his presence. "Quickly," he said, speaking to someone else. "We should have left already. We don't have time."

Oh. Of course, no one could see him. Everyone was rushing around him as if he wasn't there. What a strange feeling. He was used to people giving him a wide berth, out of respect for him and sometimes because they were intimidated by his large size and silence. He wasn't part of the Corps anymore. How could he be? He was dead and invisible. He might as well not have been here at all. He felt more alone than he had out on the strange plain.

Then he remembered what Erwin had always said, that the dead rode with them, gave them strength. That was right. Mike brightened. He'd always thought that. That must be why he was here. To offer his support and strength. Erwin always knew just what to say, even if he wasn't aware at the time what use his words would have.

In the midst of all the activity, there was another point of stillness. Levi was standing and watching the preparations, his face unsurprisingly grim. He wouldn't be able to go, because of his leg. 

Mike found that it was easy to move. All he had to do was think about approaching Levi, and suddenly he was standing beside him. Levi didn't say anything, but Mike was very aware of the sound of his breathing, and he realized that he didn't breathe anymore. Yet somehow scents were still apparent to him, and he was aware of the anxiety rising from the other man, in spite of his usual dour manner.

"Hi, Levi," he said softly.

As he expected, Levi didn't hear him, but he shifted at Mike's words, looking up with a blink and exhaling. He started forward, crossing the open space of the yard. People moved well out of their way to let him pass. Erwin must have sensed his approach, because he turned toward him and grew still, waiting. Levi didn't speak until he was upon him, standing at the side of his horse with a hand on its shoulder.

"Let me go," said Levi.

"You're not well enough. You need more recovery time."

"I can move. I can ride."

"I won't risk you," said Erwin, and there was that stony decision on his face, the expression of someone who couldn't be moved.

"There are plenty of soldiers you're sending out with unhealed injuries."

Erwin wasn't really listening, and Mike could tell he had made up his mind. There was no arguing with Erwin when he was like this. "I'll be the one to decide when you can rejoin battle."

Levi made a disgusted noise, but he didn't argue further. "Fine. I'll sit and wait at home for you."

"There's more than enough that needs doing here." The soldiers, at last, were in some semblance of an ordinary formation, armed and ready. More troops were riding in, from the Stationary Guard.

Levi turned and walked away. Mike went with him. Erwin rode to meet the new arrivals.

"Sir--Captain, sir." Once Erwin had been left behind, a younger officer approached Levi. The young man was clearly reluctant to approach, but forced himself to step up and salute.

"What is it?" Levi was stern, but not unnecessarily harsh. His tone wasn't unkind.

"I have a casualty report. Zacharius and his squad are missing and presumed dead."

Levi nodded. His reaction to the news was so negligible that either he didn't care, he was fully under control, or he had known already. Mike wasn't offended. They received news about death all the time. They had to deal with it calmly, or how could they keep going? "Understood. Now go on. They need you." He gestured toward the troops ready to ride out and glanced back at Erwin before adding, "and don't mention this."

Levi's hands formed fists. He kept his back to the riders. Mike could see his face. He was shaken, in that rare state of displaying his emotions, his lips twisted, his eyes narrowed and bright. "Fuck. I knew they didn't report in, but--" He turned back to Erwin again. Erwin was already leaving. To Mike's surprise, he was leaving also. All at once, Levi was in the distance, and he was at Erwin's side.

Erwin gazed straight ahead. His face was a blank, his eyes coldly calm. Although he was riding very quickly forward, Mike, at his side, didn't feel like he was moving at all. He was there, and yet he wasn't. "It'll be all right, Erwin," he said, although he didn't know if that was true. "I'm here."

Time moved strangely for him. Abruptly, the scene shifted, and they were far beyond the wall, huge trees rising before them like a stand of towers, ominous and dark. The sight was a familiar and unfriendly one. It was difficult for Mike to keep track of what was happening. He was very aware of Erwin, but less clear on the situation as a whole. There were Titans, there was chaos--bright blood and the sound of wet paper ripping. Mike tried to make sense of it all. Erwin was leading both men and Titans, but that couldn't be right.

Then, without warning, Erwin was swept off his horse and into the sky. With a Titan's teeth deep in his arm, he let out a cry of pain. Mike knew how much it hurt. It was awful to see Erwin hanging like that, to see his face distorted with anguish. He went to him. This couldn't happen. He couldn't let him die. "You can't give up. You can't stop fighting, no matter what. Erwin, please--"

"Mike--?"

It sounded like Erwin said his name, but before Mike could be sure, Erwin was swinging his free arm, cutting through his own muscle and sinew and bone with an incredible force. He cut himself free. He was free. Riding again. "No, Erwin, you have to bind that--" He was going to bleed to death like this. "Here, let me." He put out a hand. He'd never believed in ghosts. He wouldn't have believed a ghost could do something like this, but somehow he did, or his hand helped Erwin's hand, and within moments, the wound was bound, the bleeding slowing. 

Erwin didn't stop. He kept going, so Mike went with him. "You can't fall. I won't let you." He held him up. He stayed with him, no matter what happened. He gave him strength. That was what the dead were supposed to do, wasn't it? He kept his word. He didn't let Erwin fall. He rode with him back to the walls.

Later, while Erwin lay in bed, weak and feverish, Mike sat at his bedside, waiting. He spoke to him. He reminded him of when they'd been young and when they'd been naive. They'd made each other promises back then. Some of them were silly, but others were less so. Once, they'd told each other they would always fight together, side by side. That had been such a long time ago, but Mike liked to keep his promises.

"Mike..." Erwin moaned in his sleep, and Mike couldn't be sure if he'd heard him or not.

Levi came to see Erwin, too. He stood there for a long time, watching Erwin's prone form beneath the pale sheets, standing still as Erwin shuddered and shifted. When he heard Erwin murmur Mike's name, his hands curled until his knuckles paled. He looked as if he wanted to hit something, but there was nothing to hit. "He isn't here, Erwin. He's gone. Dammit." 

Mike wished he could tell them that he was there. There were a lot of things he would have liked to tell them. He was sad to have left them, but he was happy too, as odd as that was. Erwin was all right. He would keep fighting. As long as humanity kept fighting, then there was hope. Erwin gave him hope. Maybe he was wrong, or maybe he was foolish, but he believed in Erwin. He hadn't always been happy with him, and he didn't always agree with him, but--he loved him. That was what it was, wasn't it? That was why he was here. He belonged here. He'd asked to go home, and here he was, with Erwin again.

***

Recovering was a difficult, painful process, but Erwin couldn't allow it to be a slow one. He didn't have time for that. He had work to do. He had to get better. He didn't have the luxury of a long recuperation. He pushed himself. He fought with the doctors. He walked the halls, stubbornly. It seemed to have worked. Everyone commented on how quickly he was healing.

Every so often, he stopped short. There was an chill that kept passing over him--perhaps it was a remnant of his fever, but he didn't think so. It didn't make him feel feverish. Whenever he experienced it, he paused. He found himself turning to look for something, but there was nothing there. He experienced an odd sense of calm in those moments, and he wondered what it meant.


End file.
